
S8M)cMIK 






-i^^^^^^ 



dd alter S.Perc/ 



Class 




Book ^^ j f? 



Gop}TlgiitN^ 



/ ^/ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



MUSE AND MINT 



BY 
WALTER S. PERCY 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1914 






Copyright, 1914 
Shebmak, Frekch 6* Company 



DEC -5 1914 



CI.A888719 



TO 

MY DEAR MOTHER AND WIFE 

WHO BEST LOVED MY MUSE 
AND WHOSE LOVE WAS THE 
MINT THAT EVER MADE IT 
AN INSPIRATION AND JOY 



MUSE AND MINT 

I MUSED upon the strangeness of all things. 

So different from the dream 
Whereof the morning mounted up on wings 

Above the world agleam 
With light that trembled into life and love 
As when a censer swings 
And joy of promise sings — 
" The dream whereof 
The gleam above 
The world is love ! " 

Oh, bitterness to muse and neither find 

The beauty of the Muse 
Nor yet the music which the soul divined 

Ere set the rosy hues 
In sombre lines that disenchant and fret 
The heart with growing grief 
Which struggles for relief — 
" O Muse, but let 
My spirit yet 
The rue forget ! " 

As if to answer me a little child, 
To whom the sunshine's glint 
Was gloom forever, on the corner smiled 

And vended sprigs of mint, 
As though there were in blindness still a bloom 
And fragrance which could reach 
The passer-by and teach — 
" In glint or gloom 
There's mint in bloom 
To earth perfume ! " 



CONTENTS 
NATURE 

PAGE 

Fireflies S 

Bo-Peep 5 

Peep-of-Dawn 6 

The Rilly River 7 

Cherries 8 

A Snowflake 10 

The Blizzard 11 

Sugaring Off 12 

The Chrysalis IS 

When I Survey 14 

Paupack 19 

FIRESIDE 

Mother 23 

Chatterbox 24 

Little Stocking 26 

Elfin Faces 28 

Sweet 'Steen 30 

Boy 31 

A Child's Lifted Cross 32 

The Boy Millionaire 33 

A Lullaby 34 

The Last Song 35 

Youth 36 

Age 36 

SENTIMENT 

A Coronation 39 

I'll Be Watching on thb Shore ... 40 

I Give Thee My Promise 42 

Chambered Roses 43 



PAGE 

Two Frames 44 

Pars Summae 45 

A Vision 46 

The Aftermath 48 

Proof-words 49 

MEMORIES 

Adieus 53 

Dust to Dust 54 

Little Words 55 

A Wayside Life 56 

O Tear! 57 

The Dew of Dust 58 

A Smile 59 

PHILOSOPHY 

The Hill-tops ........ 63 

The Man Who Bears the Hod ... 64 

Jog Along! 65 

The Family Tree 66 

Replevin 68 

HOMILIES 

What is Truth? 71 

Friendship 72 

Thought 73 

When I'm No More 74 

The Blazed Trail 75 

Grief and Joy 76 

Hope 77 

Sowing and Reaping 78 

Hope On! 79 

Hearted Good 80 



COUNTRY 

PAGE 

America 83 

The Altar of Country 85 

The Stars of Destiny 86 

Last of the Grand Army 87 

Vincit Omnia Jus 90 

The Flying Jack 92 

HUMOR 

Sap's A-bilin' 97 

Just Mud 98 

Knockin' Round 99 

The Snail and Star 100 

The Old Sor'l Hoss 102 

NiCODEMUS BOGGS 103 

SACRED 

What is Faith? 107 

A Forgiveness 109 

The Good Samaritan Ill 

Shepherd of Israel 113 

The Ladder of Cloud 114 

The Risen Christ Means Victory . . .116 

The Everlasting Arms 117 

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep . . .118 

The Glory Dwells 119 

The Light of Life 120 

Design 121 

SONG 

Golden Hope 125 

The Coming Crowning 126 

The Living Cup 128 



PAOS 

The Singers 129 

The Crown of Thorns 131 

Song Along 1S3 

Ecce Homo! 184 

The Love that Washed His Feet . . .136 

MISCELLANEOUS 

The Shut and Open Hand ...... 141 

The Man-bird 144 

The Phantom Cavalry 146 

Thou Callest Me Brother .... 149 

The Singing Death 150 

The Old Moon in the Arms of the New . 152 



NATURE 



FIREFLIES 

The murky night hung dank and dark 

The Summer shower after ; 
A distant dog's staccato bark 

Disturbed the strollers' laughter; 
The mournful whip-poor-will's lament, 

The frogs' and crickets' chorus 
A weird, sepulchral feeling lent 

To meadow-lot and morass. 

A thousand insect-lanterns flashed 

Their phosphorescent signals 
Of living sparks that dot-and-dashed 

Out swift electric riddles ; 
For scarcely was the eye upon 

A single tiny glowlight 
When wink, it flitted and was gone 

Like prankish imp on show-night! 

And while one guessed its next surprise 

Afar from where it dwindled 
A myriad others to the eyes 

All intercrossed and kindled 
Until the ghostly gloom became 

Illumined with manoeuvres 
As though of fairies fanning flame 

Within a park of lovers. 



[3] 



And thus does fancy people night 

With fugitive creations 
Of phantom-folk whose fitful light 

Yet feeds our inspirations 
And teaches us there is no dark 

But fellowships the presence 
Of every soul that sheds its spark 

Of humble incandescence. 



[4] 



BO-PEEP 

Everywhere I ramble 

In the ides of May, 
Through the boughs and bramble 

The wood-nymphs play. 
Where the sunshine dapples 

Shadows all a-creep 
Beneath the budding apples, 

Dances Bo-Peep. 

Over where the mosses 

Make a coverlet 
Which the Spring embosses 

With a green fret. 
From the long hibernal 

Dreaminess of sleep 
Wakes with dimples vernal 

Little Bo-Peep. 

Violets and bluets 

Mischievously peek ; 
Monks like pigmy druids 

Play at hide-and-seek ; 
O'er each stump a picket 

Spies with cunning deep. 
And in every thicket 

Beckons Bo-Peep. 



[5] 



PEEP-OF-DAWN 

The tallyho of slumber's on 
The last relay of dreams ; 
Posthaste it rides with ribbons drawn 
O'er curvetting gray teams. 
The wayside house just left behind 
Was Where-the-Cock-Crew Inn ; 
The road ahead with rose is lined 
And known as Work-to-Win. 

Intoxicated senses sink 

In visions of delight; 

And Venus' eye begins to wink 

Where it outrides the night. 

Sly fingers lift the window-shades, 

But ere espied are gone ; 

And on the drowsy milking-maids 

Tiptoes the Peep-of-Dawn. 

Dame Nature in abandon lies 

With skirts in disarray, 

And overtaken with surprise 

Is kissed by stealthy Day ; 

The coverts rub their eyes and wake, 

And dreaming Love anon 

Goes forth on Rosy Road to make 

A tryst with Peep-of-Dawn. 



[6] 



THE RILLY RIVER 

The cold and turbid flood of Spring 
Has melted to the Summer shallow, 
And now the vivid greeneries cling 
Along the margin lush and fallow, 
And where were sombre deeps and chills 
Are silver trills of rippling rills. 

The loiterer upon the bridge 
Which o'er the eddying river poises 
Salutes the island's sandy ridge 
That reappears; the eye rejoices 
In all the old familiar frills 
And saucy spills of rippling rills. 

The rod and reel the rapture feel 
And from the boat take finny chances, 
But less for luck than with the keel 
To be a part of runic dances ; 
For thus the river's music thrills 
Like joy that fills the rippling rills. 



[7] 



CHERRIES 

Cherries ! Cherries ! Cherries ! 
The robins are excited and delighted 

To change the fare at last ; 
For 'twas bugs and grubs and slugs 

Over two months past. 
Now it's cherries till the berries 

Ripen full and fast. 

Cherries ! Cherries ! Cherries ! 
The robins are excited and affrighted ; 

There's a man up the tree 
In a big wig and rig 

That would scare a chickadee — 
But a robin — see him bobbin' 

In a solemn colloquy ! 

Cherries ! Cherries ! Cherries ! 
The scare-crow is indicted and requited 

With a pocketful of eggs 

Baby-blue, with 'em too 

Gettin' ready bill and legs 
For the Summer that's a comer 

When the cherry-season begs. 

Cherries ! Cherries ! Cherries ! 
The robins are excited and delighted — 
Not the redbreast but the kind 

[8] 



That eclipse with cherry lips 
And are not a whit behind 
Robin Jerries stealin' cherries 
When the dummy's but a blind. 



[9] 



A SNOWFLAKE 

Million-needled star of hoar, 
Parachuting little kite 
Sailing by my cottage-door, 
Flurried, jostled, fairy -light — 
Whither, whither, whence and why 
Comest thou of crystal 
From the welkin, hasting by 
Like a lost epistle? 

Softly did the snowflake sigh 
" Read me as I rest awhile ! " 
So I read the whence and why ; 
For the snowflake is a smile. 
Melting Heaven-dew congealed 
Lest we miss its beauty. 
Love in miracle revealed 
On the wings of duty ! 



[10] 



THE BLIZZARD 

The whited pumice of the storm 

Is over house and hill 
Or drifted into shroudlike form 

About the ruined mill. 

The fences hide beneath the drifts ; 

The snowy terraces 
Ascend to where the hemlock lifts 

Its virgin-broidered dress. 

The trackless highway challenges 

The sweltered caravan 
Of traffic and in fastnesses 

Of chalk imprisons man. 

The wind-wolves howl at cottage-door 

Or down the chimney leap ; 
The windows all are rimed with hoar 

Where frozen fingers creep. 

The house-frame groans at blast and frost 

Like quarry of the pack 
O'ertaken, but though torn and tossed 

Still stout of heart and back ; 

Still stout of heart like us secure 

By ruddy fire warm, 
Too humbly thankful to be poor 

While sheltered from the storm. 

[11] 



SUGARING OFF 

Essence of all that's sweet, what joy 
To watch thy amber flow 
And sip thy nectar till it cloy 
Or waxen it on snow! 

What joy to watch the trickling veins 
Of our old maple-friend 
And know the vernal Odin reigns 
As heir of Winter's end ! 

Drink to the earnest of the Spring, 
The ichor of the bud. 
To all the rising hopes that sing 
Of life and loverhood! 

Drink to the sweetness in thee hid 
By softer airs distilled; 
Let Nature sugar off and bid 
Her kindlier cup be filled! 



[12] 



THE CHRYSALIS 

Come out of your Winter shell, old grub 

Of horns and crusty twist, 
And with your fellows elbows rub 

More like a humanist! 
A spiral armor's very well 

For its eccentric curve. 
But not a gloomy hermit-cell 

Of cynical reserve. 

Come out of your Winter shell, old slug 

Of dormant sense and soul! 
You're far too round and hard and smug; 

Your Summer self unroll 
And show you've got some nature left 

That sprouts an airy wing; 
The man of humus is bereft 

Who can't respond to Spring. 

Come out of your Winter shell, old worm 

Of wrapped-up gossamer. 
If you would burst your scaly derm 

And let the spirit stir ; 
For after all, for better things 

A man created is 
Than lying with imprisoned wings 

A half-dead chrysalis. 



[13] 



WHEN I SURVEY 

'Tis midnight and I am in the country ! 
The world is still and all the lights are out 
Save for the ones which stud the firmament 
With diamond clusters everywhere about. 

Like royal David pondering the Heaven 

I stand uncovered, torn and battle-spent 

And from my flocking meditations driven 

By spectral bears and lions ; but not as he 

Victorious, for the raveners I smote 

Were modern pride and doubt which stalked my 

faith 
For its ewe-lamb of trust and by the throat 
Dragged it away from me to bleating death. 

My staff is broken and the scroll I read 

A thousand nights like this lies crumpled where 

I flung it as with fevered brow I fled 

In mocking disillusion and despair 

From burnt-out wicks still sputtering in the oil 

Of self-illumination with the quizz 

" What am I? What the infinite I Am? " 

God ! If the answer were in spirit-toil 
Or as the echo of Whatever Is! 

The stars smile down on me undimmed and calm. 
My soul ! Have I so many years been blind 
[14] 



To all the glories wheeling o'er my head 
And starry with the challenge of my quest? 

Orion jewel-girdled and behind 

Coursing his dogs, in mighty combat strange 

With red-eyed Taurus ! 

And the Charioteer 
Flashing toward the goal in full career ! 
The thrice-immortal Twins the chase abreast, 
Cheering the race but keeping out of range 
Of Ursa's long, lean paws where his huge frame 
Looms in the Polar Circle ! 

Farther south 
The Lion's crouching form, with gleaming eyes 
And shadowy mouth ! 

The Plowman of the skies, 
Proud of Arcturus' fame ! 

And Hercules 
Setting his giant heel upon the fang 
Of the unwieldy Dragon ; while beyond 
The Serpent's Crown makes mockery of the 
deed ! 

Far over by a handful of degrees 
Imperial Vega rides the horizon. 
Harped on by Lyra, as when morning sang 
The genesis of systems God-decreed. 
[15] 



Already shines afar the Northern Cross 
Where else were only dreariness and dark, 
Like flaming symbol of a holy Cause 
Which bore its ensign up the Winter arc 
And more divinely glowed with sacred fire 
Than the tiaraed Lady of the Chair 
With dazzling looks, or than her daughter whom 
Impetuous Perseus, thinking her so fair, 
Delivered by the right of passion from 
The Beast with jaws of grossness open wide. 

Nor would I miss the Eagle, argus-eyed 
And swift on wings of night. 

What! Call this Night, 
With thousand thousand suns in timeless space 
So vast that distance gives no parallax 
And centuries untold would pass ere light 
From the remotest wanderer could burn ! 

So vast yon fires are a hundred-fold 

More luminous than ours to them in turn. 

And it in lost direction would dissolve 

From Earth's own lode-star here yclept the Pole ! 

So vast that hosts so numberless revolve 
In unison as no assembled whole 
Of man's most perfect mechanism moves. 
Yet by the which he boasts perpetual noon 
As though the elements he late improves 
And plays them in a more triumphant tune. 
[16] 



What ! Call this Night and our small dial Day 

Because by it we see ourselves and then 

As mere automatons ! Such is the way 

Of over-conscious men; why, even I 

An hour since called light a flickering lamp, 

Philosophy the palimpsest of pedants. 

The universe a papier-mache script. 

While on it egotism's ink was still too damp 

And speculation dript. 

But as I mount the Great Highway of Pearl 
Which turns to diamonds where its steeds strike 

hoof 
And chariot-wheels o'er the arena whirl 
Until the course is flashing flint and fire — 
How my soul thrills with this real vision of 
The truth no lips can utter — with desire 
To feel, not name, the Maker! 

Night is Day 
To eyes which earth's diurnal sun had blinded 
But now see glory, majesty, design. 
Love eternal-minded. Will divine. 
Swinging out censers, filling space with throne- 
rooms. 
Ordering the times of destiny. 
Making music and revealing purpose 
Perfect but unthinkable, yet in man 
Tuning a chord of nature in response 
To fugitive notes of a melodious plan, 

[17] 



To stray scintillas of a Master-spell, 
That we might have sufficient just of sense 
To throb with feeling of theophany, 
Just awe enough of the Ineffable 
Out of our pinpoint nothingness to cry 

" What is man that Thou art mindful of him? 
And what is he that he should give a Name 
Which we with lips vainglorious can laud, 
A shape of Person to the Great I am 
Before we deign to worship Him as God ? " 



[18] 



PAUPACK 

Whither waters, gently flowing 

In thy rocky channel-race, 

Yet anon more noisy growing 

O'er the stones which stay thy pace — 

Gentle waters, whither going? 

Laughing louder as they hurried. 
Making music as they ran, 
Deeper still the rock they furrowed 
And a stolen run began 
Half in cliffs and chasms buried. 

Through the narrows flung they churning. 

Leaped they in a mad cascade 

And a bedded boulder spuming 

They a misty iris made. 

Spray to fitful spectrum turning. 

Wildling waters thus romancing 
Through the gorge in joy's career, 
Wooded witchery enhancing, 
Paupack picturesque and dear. 
Haste thee onward ever dancing! 

Let thy pilgrimage and laughter 
Quicken an Algonquin vein 
Till the lure I follow after 
Flushes every sense again 
Like the freshet of the water ; 
[19] 



Till, O Paupack, each erosion 
Of my nature is at flood 
With a primitive emotion, 
With an impulse of the blood. 
Singing on towards the ocean ! 



[20] 



FIRESIDE 



MOTHER 

Only one link is to us all 

A never-failing bond, 
Onlj one thought of time's recall 

Makes all the world respond. 
Dear ties there are that knit us close 

As parent, friend or brother; 
But God a universal chose 

In the dear name of " Mother ! " 

Only one face no stranger is 

Sometime at every side, 
Only one love whose holy kiss 

To few has been denied ; 
And whether we it treasure up 

Or its affection smother, 
Yet still the world's communion-cup 

Is the dear name of " Mother ! " 

Only one touch of nature makes 

Us feel alike at best, 
Only one gift for our sakes 

Outbalances the rest ; 
And whether good or evil, we 

Are human to each other 
When our most sacred memory 

Is the dear name of " Mother ! " 



[23] 



CHATTERBOX 

Miss Chatterbox, come here and tell 

Me all about the fairies' spell 

So new to you but strange to me 

Till you revive its mystery ! 

I, too, delight in Summer bowers 

But you bewitch the birds and flowers ; 

I, too, rejoice in sunny nooks 

But you make music of the brooks ! 

Miss Chatterbox, the secret share 

Of all the magic of the air ! 

How comes the woodland's passing breeze 

To be the whisper of the trees? 

How come the echoes through their screen 

To be the pranks of elves unseen? — 

The bushy tails and beadlike eyes 

The wizard and the kewpie spies? 

Miss Chatterbox, the riddle read 

Of yonder fence-side hearts that bleed. 

Of yonder riot in the field 

Where buttercups to daisies yield ; 

Where drowsy sprites sip clover-sweets 

And bobolink with Cupid meets ; 

Where brownies over on the knoll 

The puff-balls of the pasture roll. 



[94] 



Miss Chatterbox, how happens it 

That you in all this witchcraft fit ; 

That in your feet the fairies dance 

And from your eyes the sun-sprites glance; 

That in your curls are elfin kinks 

And in your cheek a cupid winks ; 

The wood-nymphs clap their hands with thine 

And thou art nature's countersign? 



[25] 



LITTLE STOCKING 

Cunningly, patiently I knit you, 

Little stocking. 
Counting the stitches the while ; 
Lovingly in thought I fit you 

While rocking 
Back and forth, back and forth, with a smile, 
On the baby-feet I kiss 
Or in slumber absent miss. 
Dreams flocking, little stocking. 

Like this. 

Skilfully, wistfully I weave you. 

Interlocking 
The strands in and out and around; 
Tenderly in mind I leave you. 

Little stocking. 
As the woolen thread's unwound, 
And I think of baby feet 
You will cover when complete, 
Half-mocking, little stocking, 

So sweet. 

Artfully I toe and heel you, 

Little stocking. 
Clicking the needle ends ; 
Fondly I fashion and feel you. 

Heart a-talking 

[S6] 



As the tapering fabric spends ; 
Will the baby-feet be true 
To the dreams I wove in you? 
Little stocking, little stocking, 
Adieu ! 



[27] 



ELFIN FACES 

Round me gather Rosycheeks, 
Clean and fresh as peaches, 
Smiling daughters of the Greeks, 
Golden-tongued with speeches. 

" Papa, tell your little girls 
All about the fairies ! " 
Bless my soul ! they all had curls 
And Cupid-lips like cherries. 

Yes, indeed, and starry eyes 
And merry little dimples 
Something like a sly surprise 
Hid in cunning wimples. 

Yes, and twinkling baby-feet 
Dancing midst the flowers. 
Gathering the honey sweet 
Through the morning hours. 

But at twilight is the time 
Each becomes a brownie. 
Murmuring a sleepy rhyme, 
Growing soft and downy 

Till — say, I declare there springs 
Up from either shoulder 
Fluffy little angel-wings 
That at first enfold her, — 
[28] 



Then I have to rub my eyes 
All alert and scarey, 
For right out the window flies 
Every single fairy 

And I'm left there all alone, 
Peering in the corners. 

Little elfin-faces gone 
Leave behind them mourners. 



[29] 



SWEET 'STEEN 

Little outgrown pinafore 
Hanging there behind the door, 

Seldom seen, 
Sprigged all over full of buds 
Like the yesterdays whose suds 
Only partly washed you out — 

What d'you mean 
By reviving such a time 
Like a phantom put to rout 
Till it runs to rue and rhyme ? 

Ah, 'tis sad to think of it — 
Missy that you used to fit 

Till between 
Top and bottom was a glance. 
Now is wearing styles of France ; 
For alas, she's grown to be 

Sweet sixteen, 
With young ladyship's conceit 
And its sprouting vanity — 
Sixteen, pinafore, and sweet ! 



[30] 



BOY 

Boy, thou art the work of ages, 

Disporting by creation's glades and streams - 

Laughing at the sages 

And filling all the pages 

Of time eternal with thy hopes and dreams ! 

Boy, thou art the work of nature. 

Commingling of earth and air and fire — 

In consciousness and feature 

A juvenescent creature 

With active mind and limbs that never tire. 

Boy, thou art the work of gladness 

And meant to fill the world with lusty shout. 

With laughter, not with sadness. 

With goodness, not with badness. 

With eager confidence and not with doubt ! 

Boy, thou art the work of Heaven, 

A thought to give the world a bonnie heir — 

A living joyous leaven, 

A spirit nobly driven 

To try the future and divinely dare ! 



[31] 



A CHILD'S LIFTED CROSS 

How are we taught by childhood's simple plea 
Our greatest need and poor deformity 
When such a child each vesper hour could pray, 
" Lord, make me well and take my cross away ! 

" That I may share in joy and love return, 
That I may live to labor and to learn 
And that to-morrow may redeem to-day, 
Lord, make me well and take my cross away ! " 

The help came down not as the cry went up. 
Not as the thirst the giving of the cup ; 
Poor little one, if only we could say 
God made him well and took his cross away ! 

'Tis thus we bring our own distorting grief 
To our beloved Physician for relief; 
And as our burden at thy feet we lay. 
Lord, say 'tis well and take our cross away ! 

Thus too we bring our sin-misshapen soul 
To our great Healer, who can make us whole. 
And there beside His cross, not ours, we pray, 
" Lord, make me well and take my sins away ! " 

Ah, time may hold surcease from pain and care ; 
Who knows what is the answering of prayer 
Or why the Potter breaks the faulty clay? 
Lord, make us beautiful in Thine own way ! 
[32] 



THE BOY MILLIONAIRE 

Boy, I'm worth a hundred million 

And I'm sixty seasons old, 

But you're worth about a billion 

In another kind of gold! 

I've the money, you've the treasure. 

You've the future, I've the past, 

I've the power, you've the pleasure, 

Mine is fleeting, yours will last. 

When you whistle through the clover, 

Capturing the bumble-bee. 

When the brook is running over 

And the trout-line craftily 

Feels the eddy — who can offer 

You a kingdom more divine? 

I've an overflowing coff^er 

But would trade it all for thine. 



[33J 



A LULLABY 

Little birdie, fold thy wings, 

Snuggle in thy nest; 

While the wind thy cradle swings, 

Baby-birdie, rest! 

Oh, so wee and warm and near 

To thy mamma's breast! 

Oh, so free from harm and fear ! 

Go to rest, go to rest ! 

Little flower, hide thy face, 

For 'tis eventide ! 

In the sleepy night's embrace. 

Little flower, hide ! 

Oh, so wee and fair and still 

On thy mamma's breast ! 

Oh, so free from care and ill! 

Be at rest, be at rest ! 

Little baby, close thine eyes; 
Fairies come for thee 
From the land of lullabys, 
Where my baby'll be 
Oh, so blissful while she sleeps 
On her mamma's breast! 
And I kiss her smiling lips ; 
She's at rest, she's at rest! 



[34] 



THE LAST SONG 

Just one more little song, mother, 

Before I go to sleep ; 
For thou hast often hushed my heart 

To slumber soft and deep. 
Before 'tis dark I long, mother, 

For thy dear voice, which seems 
To make thy gentle face a part 

Of childhood's golden dreams. 

Just one more little song, mother. 

Before I sink to rest; 
For thou hast often stilled my fears 

Upon thy tender breast. 
Thy love so great was strong, mother, 

With childhood's safe repose 
On lips that kissed away its tears, 

In arms that held it close. 

Just one lyiore little song, mother, 

Before I dream of skies 
Where stars and flowers smile and shine 

And angel-harps surprise. 
But not in Heaven's throng, mother. 

Is there a dearer face, 
A sweeter song or soul than thine 

The Gloryland to grace. 



[35] 



YOUTH 

A VISION of morning, 
A sparkle of dew, 
With roses adorning 
Life's pilgrimage through; 
All joy and no sorrow. 
No trouble to borrow, 
An endless to-morrow, 
And love ever true. 



AGE 

To sit in the gloaming 
And muse by the fire 
Till the spirit of homing 
Takes wings of desire; 
And the might-have-beens lighten 
And the things-to-be brighten 
And the heavenlies heighten 
And the holies inspire. 



[36] 



SENTIMENT 



A CORONATION 

Dear, on thy brow I set a crown, 

Invisible yet rare; 
Not jewelled gold, which burdens down 

With royalty and care. 

I bring thee nothing but my love 
And what my hands can win, 

And yet I crown thee, dear, above 
A kingdom's proudest queen. 

I kiss each gleaming tress of thine 
Coiled lightly round thy head. 

And woman's glory grows divine 
With love's aurora shed. 

If thou canst but forget the rest, 

The gems I cannot bring. 
This jewel doth become thee best 

To me, thy lover-king. 

Dear, in my soul thou hast a throne 

All white and heavengold. 
And on thy brow I set a crown 

That doth my heart infold. 



[39] 



I'LL BE WATCHING ON THE SHORE 

She kissed me when we parted, — 

I to sail the stormy main, 

She to keep the little cottage 

Snug until I come again ; 

And well do I remember 

What she promised o'er and o'er : — 

" When you come sailing from the ocean 

I'll be watching on the shore ! " 

So I was a jolly skipper. 

Coiling rope or reefing sail ; 

Many a distant port I entered, 

Many a homebound ship did hail. 

If I sent or got a message. 

Always it the promise bore : — 

" When you come sailing from the ocean 

I'll be watching on the shore ! " 

Death came yawning in the tempest; 
Wild and high the spindrift flew. 
And from dizzy deck and masthead 
Oft I thought my hour was due ; 
Till her dear prophetic promise 
Sang above the billows' roar : — 
" When you come sailing from the ocean 
I'll be watching on the shore ! " 



[40] 



But alas ! One time I harbored 

She was sleeping white and still 

Where the ivy made a trellis 

Of the lookout on the hill ; 

And the cold engraven marble 

Yet the farewell promise bore : — 

" When you come sailing from the ocean 

I'll be watching on the shore ! " 



[41] 



I GIVE THEE MY PROMISE 

I GIVE thee my promise, sweetheart, 

With thy dear lips to mine. 
That nothing shall keep from us 

The sealing of this sign ; 
As o'er the world I wander 

By hope of fortune sped. 
My heart will grow the fonder 

For thy promise me to wed. 

I give thee the token, sweetheart. 

Whose circle on thy hand 
God grant may ne'er be broken, 

However far the land! 
For where it pleaseth Heaven 

To lead my errant feet, 
This little token given 

Will keep the promise sweet. 

I give thee the keeping, sweetheart. 

Of my own heart that pleads 
For love's immediate reaping 

And with the parting bleeds ; 
But I with arms that hold thee 

Must labor for thee, too ; 
And so I fast enfold thee 

And bid thee, love, adieu ! 



[42] 



CHAMBERED ROSES 

OvEE in Dolorosa Hall, 

Romantic memories breathing, 

There's a quaint old room with flowered wall 

Of roses interwreathing. 

The key on golden chain I wear 

To guard the sacred chamber, 

For as a bride demure and fair 

My sainted Mary came there. 

'Twas her dear self arranged it so 
And helped to match the roses, 
As she, alas, the ones which grow 
O'er walls where she reposes. 
I nurture these, the others seal 
For subtler necromancy 
Where Mary's loving roses steal 
Around the room of fancy. 

They ramble from each comer to 

The border o'er the moulding 

And on in buds and tendrils through 

The ceiling's faded golding. 

No hand shall ever tear them down 

With cheap artistic violence. 

For Mary wreathed the roses on. 

Still fragrant with her silence. 



[43] 



TWO FRAMES 

In the gallery of remembrance 

Down on Unforgotten Street 
Hangs a picture of two lovers 

After they the vows repeat ; 
Lovely — handsome — picture — lovers 

Golden-framed against the wall, 
Love in rich and stately setting — 

Revenue and manor-hall. 

And beside it hangs another, 

Limned again with lovers' pose, 
Just as lovely on the canvas 

Till the golden in it glows ; 
But 'tis framed in white enamel 

Whereon lilies intertwine — 
Love in sweet and simple setting — 

Virtue and a cottage-vine. 

Love-in-woman stands before them 

With reflected gold and grace 
But with struggling decision 

On her dew-and-flower face; 
Eyes are drawn to frame of yellow, 

Heart to canvas set in white: 
Rich man, poor man? Love-in-woman 

Chose and lilies turned to light. 



[44] 



PARS SUMMAE 

I DID not think that love was mine 

Because I toiled ; 
But if I caught its every line 

And not despoiled 
More perfect love to grace my own, 

Then might I feel 
That I at love's supremest throne 

Could rightly kneel. 

I veiled my face when glory shed 

Its trembling light ; 
Nor would I lift my humbled head 

Till I as white 
Could show the pureness of a soul 

That doth reveal 
Love which before the sacred whole 

Can rightly kneel. 

My altar was her blessing-place 

Whence she bestowed 
The gifts divinely of her grace 

On worship bowed; 
For as my adoration rose 

To love's ideal 
She lifted me as one of those 

Who rightly kneel. 



[45] 



A VISION 

Tall and fair and azure-eyed, 

Covert glances 'neath the drooping lash 

Like Cupid's arrows in an artful quiver — 

She is this and much beside, 

Which to tell in detail would be rash 

By any but the beggar to the giver. 

If I gathered, if she gave, * 

I could put it better into art, 

By countless little charming things elated — 

Silken tresses in a wave. 

Cheek with stolen pigment from the heart. 

And mouth the most inviting e'er created. 

Still I'm short of total truth 

Just to feature forth her lovely face 

Wreathed in rebel-locked or coifFured limbus ; 

Yet the highest charm of youth 

Is the soft inimitable grace 

That bathes a woman with a glowing nimbus. 

And this my goddess hath improved 

By every feminine instinct of taste. 

And still the deeper charm of spiritism — 

Which, if it were the soul and loved 

Some kindred soul in this world of love-waste, 

Would laugh at every selfish catechism 

[46] 



Of worldly wisdom and its creed 

And tremble to the fate which love revealed, 

Flushed at its glimpse of Paradise, delirious 

That life was not all craft and greed 

But underneath its shallows half-concealed 

Lay passion grand, transfiguring, imperious ! 



[47] 



THE AFTERMATH 

Lovers making foolish vows, 
Thinking love is deathless 
When 'tis fiercest to espouse 
What it sings so breathless; 
Now caressing, now confessing 
In romantic stanza — 
Such is passion and its fashion 
Of extravaganza. 

But the love that's worth a throne 
Is the kind that later 
More than sentiment alone 
Proves and heavens greater 
Than a frenzy of the fancy 
Or a creed of nature. 
Or the praises in fine phrases 
Of a charming creature. 

Oh, the happy aftermath 

When the mating's over 

And ordeals of life and death 

Teach the whilom lover 

That the woman, though for human 

Charms he did enshrine her. 

Is the essence of a presence 

Sweeter and diviner! 



[48] 



PROOF-WORDS 

There was a face — I loved it ; 
There was a pulse — I felt it; 
There was a soul — I sensed it 
And made it mine for aye. 
There was a heart — I proved it ; 
There was a word — I spelt it ; 
Yet scarcely had commenced it 
When called from dreams away. 

There was a hope — I wreathed it ; 
There was a prayer — I sped it ; 
There was a seal — I gave it, 
Then bade my love adieu. 
There was a sigh — I breathed it ; 
There was a tear — I shed it ; 
There was a gift — I save it 
To know my love is true. 



[49] 



MEMORIES 



ADIEUS 

When we from the ship or shore 
Bid farewell — Oh, fare thee well ! 
Though the voyage may be o'er 
Ocean-vasts and none can tell 
Whether we shall evermore 
Meet again, yet fare-thee-well 
Means a hope whose accents spell 
Till we greet again — farewell ! 

When we over sea or land 
Godspeed wish — Oh, speed thee God ! 
Him we trust with kindly hand. 
Narrow though the way or broad, 
Sometime from the distant strand 
Back again to bring us shod 
Joyous o'er the way we trod. 
Hope is Godspeed — speed thee God ! 

When our parting word fore'er 
Is goodbye — God's way be thine! 
Whether 'tis ourself who fare 
Or another we resign. 
Yet committed to His care 
And a future as benign. 
We await the proof divine 
Hope's goodbye is God be thine ! 



[53] 



DUST TO DUST 

Earth to earth, we sadly sigh — 
Beloved, beloved, why didst thou die? 
Heaven, why untimely death 
When so sweet are life and breath? 
Earth and Heaven tell us why 
Our beloved have to die? 

Dust to dust, the elements 
Swallow clay and sleeping sense. 
Wilt thou wake, beloved, yet 
To the eyes no longer wet. 
To the arms that no more ache, 
Wilt thou, O beloved, wake? 

Ashes to ashes mingling. 
Flesh they cover, tears they wring. 
Beloved, beloved, the flowers I bring 
Wither, but the ones that spring 
O'er thy mould with promise smile 
" Dearest, yet a little while ! " 



154] 



LITTLE WORDS 

Speak but the little words of truth 

And they shall live when thou hast ceased to be ; 

The lips by trial daily put to proof 

Breathe nothing sweeter than sincerity, 

Helping thy brother to be true like thee. 

Speak but the little words of love 

And they shall linger when the tongue is still; 

For whether there be thrones they shall remove, 

But love abideth all our thoughts to fill 

And fashioneth remembrance as it will. 

Speak but the little words of hope 

And they shall cheer the way when cometh night 

To thee or others who in dark would grope 

But for the courage of thy humble light 

Fed by the oil of promise — " All comes right." 

Speak but the little words of trust 
And they shall rob the struggle of its cross, 
The heart of sorrow's bitterness, the dust 
Of victory o'er our dead — for out of loss 
Trust sees eternal gain transform the dross. 



[55] 



A WAYSIDE LIFE 

A LITTLE stream sprang from its distant source, 
And through the peopled valley with a song 
It held its smiling uneventful course, 
Grateful with cooling draught the whole year 

long, 
Till they who daily drank of it grew strong. 

A little star shone softly in the night. 
And in the many-gloried heavenly host 
It shed a true and never-failing light ; 
So that for constancy 'twas loved the most 
Because for lack of it no way was lost. 

A little coin was passed from hand to hand, 
And humbly served its mission day by day 
In the life-needs its value could command; 
Pure gold it was though small in currency. 
And many a debt of want sufficed to pay. 

A humble life was lived where others felt 

Its truth and worth to hand and lip and eye ; 

And when 'twas spent its debtors mutely knelt 

To thank the Giver for its ministry — 

The stream, the star, the coin they travelled by, 

The vanished life whose benison of grace 
Was like the cup of water or the beam 
Of friendly light or as the gold whose base 
Of humanness, though it might dull the gleam, 
Yet perisheth and leaves its worth supreme. 
[56] 



O TEAR! 

O TEAR of grief from stricken spirit wrung 

By nature's requisition of our shrined 

And best-beloved ! — if sympathizing tongue 

Can speak one word of hope or comfort kind 

By Heaven approved, — 

Drop thou upon it like a jewelled sphere 

Whose trembling iris makes it lovelier! 

By such a Heaven-inspired word, O tear 
Of human sorrow, thou art made to be 
Divinely thrilled with comforting more dear 
Than helpless love or hopeless sympathy ! — 
For thou art filled 

With visions now of soul's supremer sphere, 
Like thine but infinite in love, O tear! 

Thou art too blurred and blinding now to let 

Thine eye behold the beauty of the light 

That glimmers through thy grief, — but thou 

Avilt yet, 
If pleaseth God, with faith-anointed sight 
And love anew 

Dissolve in joy and for the sepulchre 
Glad that which makes it victory, O tear ! 



[57] 



THE DEW OF DUST 

O DEAD of earth, rejoice! 

The flowers from the dust 

By vernal dews arise 

And smile reviving trust, 

When from their Wintry tomb they wake 

And into Summer beauty break. 

And so shall sleeping be 

Within our fleshly tomb ; 

The Eastertide shall free 

The life that lieth numb. 

And from the dust shall rise anew 

The deathless bloom of Spring and dew. 

Say not to ashes turns 

Our being with its shell, 

For a divineness burns 

By death unquenchable 

To warm the poor chill mould we're of 

And our undying nature prove. 

If not another grace 

Shall clothe our soul's desire, 

Let not the grave efface 

What in us doth aspire ! 

So shall we nobler be than clay 

And give a truth to " life for aye." 

[68] 



A SMILE 

As from the window-pane a light doth gleam 
To cheer the traveller at eventide, 
So was her smile the ever-friendly beam 
That lit the way or bade the guest abide. 

She knew no cross or care but what was eased 
By smiling trust that everything was best ; 
When all around were happy she was pleased, 
When she could make them happy she was blest. 

We knew who loved her best, the sweetness of 
Her always gentle look and Christian grace ; 
She filled the home with precious motherlove, 
And no one else can fill her sacred place. 

Hers was the smile that shone in sun and storm, 
In ministry to others or when they 
Looked to her out of trouble, and the charm 
Of such serenity drove doubt away. 

She smiled in life and then the miracle 

Of soul untroubled triumplied to the end ; 

She smiles in death to comfort us — '* 'Tis 

well ! " 
To let us know that she hath found a Friend. 



[69] 



PHILOSOPHY 



THE HILL-TOPS 

There are cloudy, sullen skies, 

But what of that? 
There are discontented eyes. 

But what of that? 
When the day is gloomiest. 
Over on the hill-tops west 
There is sunshine. Brother, best 

Think of that. 

There are dour looks enough. 

But what of that? 
Tasks forbidding, hard and rough, 

But what of that? 
Though the vale the weather spoils. 
On the hill-tops there are miles 
Of old Sol's unconquered smiles ; 

What of that? 

Living in the valley long. 

Maybe that 
Quenched the laughter and the song ; 

But for that. 
Hearts might look to higher hills. 
Kissed by sun and full of rills. 
Smiling over cares and ills. 

Think of that ! 



[63] 



THE MAN WHO BEARS THE HOD 

Go, mould and burn the clay to brick 
With all the skill of ages ; 
It took the shovel and the pick 
Before it took the sages. 
But leaving that to honor's past 
For things which men applaud, 
Who is it makes the pile so vast, 
An edifice to rise and last? 
The man who bears the hod. 

The potter and the architect 
May shape and plan the temple, 
The master-builders may erect. 
Ennoble or assemble ; 
But leaving that to future fame 
For things we rarely laud, 
Who is it carries up the frame 
On shoulders called in lieu of name 
The man who bears the hod ? 

The dreamer and the statesman may 
Inspired be with genius. 
And in the oven put the clay 
That rears renown between us ; 
But who must heap the bricks they mould 
On backs and bases broad, 
Toil up the scaffolds and uphold 
The towers growing high and bold.? 
The man who bears the hod. 
[64] 



JOG ALONG! 

Jog along! Jog along! 
The day is young, the goal's ahead, 
The limbs are strong and hope is fed 
On promises where'er you look, 
Of nodding bud and laughing brook. 
Cheer up ! Cheer up ! while there's a song 
Of bird or smile of sunny nook. 
There's love and bread. So jog along! 

Jog along! Jog along! 
'Tis only noon and there's an inn 
Where you may soon an hour win 
Of humble fellowship and fare — 
A luxury of life too rare. 
Hail, friend well met, who in the throng 
Is brotherly in spite of care ! 
There's human kin — so jog along! 

Jog along ! Jog along ! 
The sun goes down but twilight's still 
To reach the town upon the hill ; 
And there the sun's an hour high 
To give thee grace of foot and eye. 
Keep on ! Keep on ! with dauntless will ; 
You've still the promise of the sky 
The stars until ! So jog along ! 



[65] 



THE FAMILY TREE 

Your genealogy may be 
The finest thing on earth 
Or merely a decadent tree 
Of past descent and worth. 

The children of the Puritans 
Should have the Pilgrims' souls 
Or else an alien wire spans 
Your insulated poles. 

An aristocracy of breed 
Is that which keeps the stamp 
Of spirit from heroic deed 
In patriot hall or camp. 

The veins whose life-blood flows for home 
Or right or liberty 

Should be the same from which they come, 
To keep the nation free. 

To find in our ancestral line 
A sire of noble blood 
Puts on us truth to make the sign 
Of our escutcheon good. 

Colonial forbears condemn 
Like ghosts from hollow boles 
Unless we reincarnate them 
Without their shrouds and stoles. 
[66] 



To be well-born a century back, 
A century of fruit, 
A century the soil to pack 
About the ancient root, 

Is such a heritage we well 
May trace it to its source 
For all from which its scions swell. 
Its vital ichors course. 



[67] 



REPLEVIN 

Who can replevin all his own 
From his platonic debtors — 
From plagiarists perchance unknown 
Who steal his thoughts or letters? 

His property is small or great 
As it is worth the using, 
And such a tribute to his rate 
Makes property worth losing. 

To say or do a thing that's fine, 
Which makes the world the wiser. 
Should be a royalty divine 
To any but a miser. 

Their pound of flesh let Shylocks sue 
And bank in figures seven — 
Our noblest own is what is due 
In goods beyond replevin. 



[68] 



HOMILIES 



WHAT IS TRUTH? 

Truth is the vision of the skies 
That does not ask us to be wise 
But just to lift perceiving eyes 
Wherever there is living light 
To clearer make the way of right 
Or soiled humanity more white. 

Truth is the meaning of all things 
Not to the mind but to the springs 
Of love and peace and fashionings ; 
For what we love is life's concern 
And hope is more than sages learn 
And truth is most to which we turn. 

Truth is the spirit of all truths 
Which from the same supremeness moves 
And universal purpose proves ; 
Truth is the light and not the spheres 
Whose laws are known to only seers ; 
But by the stars the sailor steers. 

Truth is the image of its God 
Who all its endless vistas trod 
And flung His attributes abroad; 
For while too rare to minds more dense 
Its mirror makes it real to sense 
And gives its soul an evidence. 

[71] 



FRIENDSHIP 

O Friendship ! On life's crown the pearl 

Amidst its jewels rare, 

A star for peasant or for earl 

The other gems whate'er — 

Be diamond on the kingly brow 

Or garnet dull on toil, 

The hearted radiance art thou, 

Of noblest might or moil. 

But ah, to only value thee 
As treasure of desire 
For peerlessness of purity 
We gain to but admire ; 
And not to feel thy inner worth 
As stuff of primal deeps. 
Some miracle of troubled birth 
Where lowly nature creeps ! 

Is this, O Friendship, worthy of 

The praises of the Muse, 

Of life so lightly prone to love 

But fire to refuse? 

If only in our hand we hold 

Another's sacrifice 

And give it back no gift of gold, 

'Tis not the Pearl of Price. 



[72] 



THOUGHT 

Think nobly! 
For the things we ponder are the sum 
Of what we treasure and we do become 
The fashion of our thinking — just as from 
The chain we know the linking. 
Therefore think nobly! 

Think purely ! 
For our meditation is the glass 
Through which our spirit doth in vision pass, 
The face of God beholding — and the grace 
Of his divine unfolding. 

Therefore think purely ! 

Think truly! 
For a true ideal is the light 
By which we struggle up the lofty height 
Of Truth's supreme divineness — and the right 
To which it doth incline us. 
Therefore think truly ! 



[73] 



WHEN I'M NO MORE 

Will yonder Orient flush with morning hue ? 
Will on the flowers shine the crystal dew 
And Heaven retain its soft cerulean blue 
When I'm no more? 

Will yet the jasper ocean lap the beach 
And woo the wildflower just beyond its reach? 
Will yet the treebirds murmur each to each 
When I'm no more? 

Will yet the laughing brook keep on its way ? 
Will yet yon moon smile sadly o'er my clay 
And those bright twinkling stars dance in the 
day 

When I'm no more? 

Will yet a smiling world salute the dawn 
And still its course of love and joy flow on — 
My image once some heart enshrined soon gone 
When I'm no more? 

What means this chill misgiving — fate or fear ? 
Death, rend the veil and calm this dark despair ! 
Say, tell me will this memory be dear 
When I'm no more? 

Ah Death, thy only kindness is the bliss 
Of answer in love's fondest parting kiss 
That one at least my humbleness will miss 
When I'm no more ! 
[74] 



THE BLAZED TRAIL 

Life is a human wilderness 
Where duty, right and truth 
Are tangled in the morasses 
Of folly, doubt and youth. 
I know I cannot hope to cleave 
A path through brake and swale, 
But I a guiding index leave 
If I but blaze the trail. 

The forest as I struggle through 

By compass, sun and stars 

I'll mark so that another, too. 

Can travel by my scars. 

From woods where labor would get lost 

And feet would err or fail 

I'll single pines on ridges crossed 

And blaze on them the trail. 

O'er range and river toward the West 

I'll keep and pray to learn 

Not what is easiest, but best, 

And worth a life's return ; 

For though I shall not pass again 

The way I thus prevail. 

It is my task for other men 

To blaze the homebound trail. 



[75] 



GRIEF AND JOY 

Grief said there was no gladness 
At the season of the Child, 
But only memories of sadness 
In homes where babes once smiled. 

Joy said there was no sorrow, 
But found solace in the touch 
Of gladness that perhaps to-morrow 
Would need our cheer as much. 

Grief said that songs awaken 
Echoes of our buried love. 
As when silent chords are shaken 
And still responsive prove. 

Joy said it yet were stranger 
If our babes made Bethlehem 
Not more dear because the manger 
Bore Him who gathered them. 

Grief said that gifts but mocked us 
With the treasures snatched away 
And with chains forever locked us 
In tombs of memory. 

Joy said that gifts were token 
Of our love and its domain, 
Earnest of our hopes unspoken 
Love would get again. 
[76] 



HOPE 

I HAVE a hope — 'tis spirit-born 

And spirit-winged beside ; 
'Tis like the holy light of morn 

When Heaven opens wide. 

Hope like the bird whose every note 

A loving Father's hand 
Hath tuned within its swelling throat 

As though the song were planned ! 

What is it but the joyous sense 

Of love and harmony ? 
What is it but the evidence 

Of life's divinity? 

That hope which makes us most divine 

And like to what it clings — 
That hope which makes our hearts incline 

To higher, holier things — 

That hope which spells eternal youth 

And goodness infinite — 
Hath reason in it strong as truth 

And logical as light. 



[77] 



SOWING AND REAPING 

Sow on though another age 

May do the reaping! 

Sow on, for the final wage 

Is in the keeping 
Of our divinest Master, who declared, 
" Sow on, for he shall reap not who hath 
spared ! " 

Reap on what another age 

Began by sowing! 

Reap on, for the highest wage 

Is in the knowing 
The fruit is garnered and the harvest-song 
To sower and to reaper doth belong ! 



[78] 



HOPE ON! 

Hope on ! For there is no rising star 
When shadows creep across our sky 
More precious than this beam afar 
That trembles through eternity. 

Hope on ! That infinite desire 
Is but a foreglimpse of the dawn 
Of an immortal, holier and higher 
Day of perfection ; therefore hope on ! 

Hope on, lest the heart be cankered 
By its own sense of dumb despair ! 
Rut rather let the soul be anchored 
To the veiled Heaven over there 

Where the light trembles through the mist 
And hope becomes more lucid faith. 
Yea, glad expectancy — for lo, the Christ 
Bids life unfold its wings and death 
And doubt begone ! Therefore hope on ! 



[79] 



HEARTED GOOD 

Blest be the goodness which is spirit-fruit 

Of reverence as worship is of awe, 

Till goodness is both ripening and root ! 

For just as truly as that it doth draw 

Its substance from divineness it must shoot 

By the same potency of nature's law. 

We may dispense the good we never grew 
As those who borrow ; or we may profess 
The goodness which we know but never do, 
And so put on a form of fruitfulness ; 
But ah, 'tis barren-hearted and untrue 
To worthiness, whate'er its outward dress ! 

To love as well as practise what is fine. 
To be what we would fain be taken for. 
To ripen from the root whose tendrils twine 
Around the very heart whose currents pour 
Into the good we do — this is divine 
And living fruit that blesses more and more. 



[80] 



COUNTRY 



AMERICA 

Divided by the ocean's vast 
From other dear and shining strands, 
The wonder of the storied past 
Confesses this the land of lands ; 
The refuge of the fair and brave 
When freedom was denied her due; 
Sing with the wild, wild ocean-wave, 
" America the true ! " 

Dear was the boon the pilgrim sought 
Amid the redman's forest wild, 
And dearly, too, the lesson taught 
By this sweet Freedom's native child; 
Which yet once learned forget no more, 
O heir of that loved Liberty ! 
Breathe with the spirit of thy shore, 
" America the free ! " 

Her stars and stripes that proudly float 
So many citied states above, 
Shall we forget that they denote 
The oneness of a common love? 
Sweet token to the patriot 
O'er all thy territories wide. 
Float to this one inspiring thought, 
" America our pride ! " 



[83] 



And still as fuller swell thy veins 
And crimsoner thy throbbing blood, 
Be virtue in thy broad domains, 
The God of nations be thy God ! 
The echo of thy forest-days 
Still mingle with thy voiceful sea 
Or linger in the poet's praise, 
" America the free ! " 



[84] 



THE ALTAR OF COUNTRY 

O Country of my altar, 
Where the incense flame doth burn 
And a priestly hand doth part the Temple- 
veil — 
Let me ne'er in purpose falter, 
Let me never from thee turn 
Nor the vision of the holy ever fail — 
O my country, till I learn 
How to purpose not to palter. 
Let the vision of the holy never pale ! 

O altar of my Country, 

Sealed with bloody sacrifice. 

Yet glorious with living triumph, too. 

May I nobly offer on thee 

Duty's most devoted price. 

Never doubting it to be thy sacred due ! 

From thy altar let me rise 

All to off^er, O my country. 

That I treasure most supreme and true ! 

(From " Greatheart.") 



[85] 



THE STARS OF DESTINY 

The midnight stars wheel in their course 

Through trackless vasts of space, 
And every distant sun's a source 

Of motions taking place 
Beyond the reach of eye or thought, 

Yet part of Heaven's design 
In order infinitely wrought 

By majesty divine. 

We cannot know the perfect plan 

In such a universe, 
Nor what its horoscope for man, 

Be it for good or worse ; 
Enough the same law rules the stars 

And human destinies. 
And man the future makes or mars 

As he observeth these ; 

As he the lesson of the past 

Applies to issues new, 
And makes experience forecast 

The Fate which cometh true 
Because it is the truth and moves 

Though oft in courses strange. 
And like the time-eternal proves. 

The stars that never change. 



[86] 



LAST OF THE GRAND ARMY 

There they come with feeble step, 
There they come with lessened rank, 
And yet pathetic with the martial air 
And ancient discipline of field and camp ! 
There they come with sounding pipe, 
There they come with armor clank; 
The dimming uniform's parade each year 
And ensign's flaunting — Tramp ! Tramp ! 
Tramp ! 

Thus they pass in broken corps, 
Thus they pass in mounted troop, 
Across the square in valor's proud review. 
Beneath the victor's green triumphal arch ; 
Heads with many a Winter hoar. 
Upright shoulders now astoop ; 
Their once imperial numbers grown so few. 
But bravely onward — March ! March ! 
March ! 

Many a soldier's vacant place. 

Many an officer's blank post. 

And many a veteran, too, with touching zeal 

To mend the losses hobbling along; 

Many a scarred and figured face. 

Many a luckless member lost 
With silent eloquence the tale reveal 
Of desperate battles — On ! On ! On ! 

[87] 



By Gratitude's tall monuments, 

Bj private cemetery tombs 

Where floral wreaths from loving hands lie 
mute 
Upon each honored grave for Memory's sight; 

Bowing heads in reverence, 

Treading slow with muffled drums. 
With tear-dimmed eye and sorrowful salute 
And lowered standard — Right ! Left ! Right ! 

Every footfall of the past. 
Every annual elapse, 

The silent hearts and silent years no more, 
Plalf-echo, mingle in that ghostly tread 
And seem to swell the muster vast 
And seem to say with hollow steps, 
From all that mighty vanguard gone before 
To this small rearguard — Dead ! Dead ! 
Dead! 

A few more years bivouac here, 

A few more years of sepulture 

In trench or dungeon, grave or moaning deep, 
A few more years of Death's soft slumbering 
night 

Till all that spectral host appear 

Before the throned Cynosure 
Whose reveille will call them from their sleep 
To Heaven's reviewing — Big^^t ! Left ! 
Right ! 

[88] 



No shotted cannon, deadly arms, 

No trophy of a fallen foe, 

Till God define the worthiest conqueror; 
Hira who has vanquished Death and conquered 
Doubt 

And faced a thousand alarms 

Till life sits firmly on his brow 
Or echoes through the happy Evermore, 
Ye host of victors — Shout ! Shout ! Shout ! 



[89] 



VINCIT OMNIA JUS 

With one foot on the rock of right already won 
And one upon the rock of faith no right can be 

undone, 
I stand prophetic-voiced that presently from 

these 
Right peak by peak shall grandly rise in 

towering Pyrenees. 

The Liberty we know and passionately love 

Shall bless the vineyards far below that drink 
the snows above; 

And in the guardian frown of Freedom's lofty 
height 

Shall think 'tis God who cometh down to thun- 
der for the right. 

As from the granite base where we must battle 

for 
To firmly plant each sacred Cause, we rear the 

mountain o'er, 
The bolt of stormy skies shall burst above each 

peak, 
Assuring us when man defies oppression God 

doth speak. 

And if from some sheer crag a vanguard hero 

fall 
The while the coward safely lags who'd rather 

be a thrall, 

[90] 



We'll set a cross upon the cliff from which he 
fell 

And over it a victor's crown of Freedom's im- 
mortelle. 

But better still we'll climb inspired by his fate 
To heights of liberty sublime unreached by 

tyrant's hate ; 
And Right shall look at last from mountain-top 

to land 
In glad humanity more vast, in destiny more 

grand ! 



[91] 



THE FLYING JACK 

The sky was blue and smiling down 

Upon a human sea ; 
Old Glory fluttered, danced and shone 

In varicolored glee. 

A merry breeze went laughing through 
The laughing folds of silk 

Until the red and white and blue 
Were sylphs with teeth of milk. 

Yet not for them the rapturous eyes 
Of shouting crowds were bright, 

Who came to hail with praise and prize 
The hero winged for flight. 

" The first to fly," the challenge read, 
" Shall win the wreath and cup." 

He spread his pinions and overhead 
A dizzy height went up. 

" Bravo ! Bravo ! " they shouted as 
He spiralled down and down ; 

Then surged toward him in a mass 
And wreathed him with the crown. 

He smiled and in his eyes of blue 

And on his cheeks of red 
A something noble came to view 

As gallantly he said: 
[92] 



"The cup I'll keep, the wreath I'll place 

Where it by right belongs ; 
The first to fly my hand shall grace 

And you acclaim with tongues." 

So saying towards his ship he stepped 

And set the sails again, 
Then in a rising circle swept 

With sun-kissed face and plane. 

They wondered when they saw him rise 

Toward the streamered staff 
Until he grazed its middle thrice 

And cleared it with a laugh ; 

Until above its gilded ball 

He steadied and from high 
The trophy flung before them all 

With practised hand and eye. 

Upon Old Glory's head the wreath 

Fell true and with it fell 
The airman's words to those beneath 

Who needed but their spell: 

" The first to fly above our land 

On wings that never lag 
I crown with patriotic hand, 

Our country's starry flag ! " 

[93] 



And then he doffed his cap and lo, 

A Jackie's suit he wore 
As circling still he cried, " Oho, 

I've flown in peace and war ! " 

I rubbed my eyes and all was fled 

Except the silken folds 
Of Glory floating overhead 

A sailor-boy which holds. 



[94] 



HUMOR 



SAP'S A-BILIN' 

Out in the country where they tap 
The maple-trees in Spring, 
There's something doin' on the map 
When March is on the wing. 
The bar'ls and buckets overrun, 
The busy farmer's smilin', 
The cracklin' fire helps the fun ; 
For sap's a-bilin'. 

Out in the country where they all 
Have lived a hundred years 
And heard the go-to-meetin' call 
As Sunday storms or clears, 
Thermometer's a-risin' w^hen 
For trouble folks are spilin' ; 
Till some one pokes the kettle — then 
The sap's a-bilin'. 

Just hold a bit — don't let it burn 

By bein' too intense ! 

The man who biles has first to learn 

A leetle common sense. 

It's sugar that we're bilin', mind, 

Not human nature rilin' ; 

So jest go back to sweetness kind 

When sap's a-bilin' ! 



[97] 



JUST MUD 

What's this live stuff you call a boy 

Just in the plastic stage 
And fairly oozing with the joy 

Of youth's unmoulded age? 
What's this to fashion into form 

Of early blade or bud 
Or fruit with life or color warm? 

Why say, just mud! 

What's Summer's golden harvest-yield 

That ripens into grain, 
The bloom of orchard, wood or field 

So riotous with gain? 
What's this comes trooping with the grace 

Of man-and-woman-hood 
From out the muck of yesterdays? 

Why say, just mud! 

What's yonder statue borne aloft 

By noble edifice. 
Which passers-by beholding oft 

Forget immortal is 
Of living deed and living art 

(Now clay, once flesh and blood) 
Both growing from a humble start? 

Why say, just mud! 



[98] 



KNOCKIN' ROUND 

Funny how some men grow up 

Knockin' round — 
Drinkin' out of fortune's cup 

Overwound 
With the ivy of Japan 
Or a South-American 
Revolutionary plot — 
Comin' back no matter what, 

Knockin' round. 

After seein' half the world, 

Knockin' round 
Under every flag unfurled 

Safe and sound — 
Home again from climbin' Alps, 
Raisin' Filipino scalps, 
Fishin' in a Scottish tarn — 
You will find him at the barn 

Knockin' round. 

All the smiles of Beauty's feyes 

Knockin' round 
Underneath Italian skies 

Or renowned 
Erin's native land of charms 
Fade away as in his arms 
Blushes — just the same old girl 
From whose locks he kept a curl, 

Knockin' round. 
[99] 



THE SNAIL AND STAR 

A HUMBLE snail crawled from his shell one night 
To drink the dew and surfeit on young greens ; 
How came he wise in nature when so slight 
A weakling of it passes wisdom's means. 

But as he inched along, a winking star 
His locomotion mocked and oddity — 
" How far, O pigmy gastropod, how far 
Dost thou suppose it is from thee to me? 

*' And at the rate of travel thou dost creep 
How long to bridge the distance would it take? 
Yet I across its vastness nightly leap 
While you a paltry rod of progress make." 

" I may be slow," the snail vouchsafed reply, 
" But then I'm no pretense, howe'er you twit ; 
Thou moA^est not at all except thy eye 
And now as I perceive thy nimble wit. 

" No doubt we both our mission magnify ; 
You give the world the cheer of astral fire 
While from a lowlier position I 
A proverb for its ridicule inspire, — 

" A proverb which, while I'm the ancient butt. 
Yet makes the human snail a b3rword too, 
And often moves him more of life to put 
In duty; therefore why so much ado?" 
[100] 



The star had no retort, so saved its face 
By prompt amends : — " My brother, you are 

right ; 
We both are filling our appointed place 
To teach the world a lesson. So good night ! " 



[101] 



THE OLD SOR'L HOSS 

The old sor'l hoss limps up the lane 

And whinners for his oats ; 
But he will never work again 

'Cept as the milk he totes 
To skimmin'-station down the road 

To sort-o'-make-believe 
He's haulin' of an honest load 

And earnin' his reprieve. 

Sure that was paid for long ago 

If twenty faithful years 
Can make a critter's master owe 

Return for what he clears 
By plow and reaper, laden rack, 

And stump-an'-loggin' bee. 
Yet gives the beast-of-burden back 

Oft scant humanity. 

For when the old sor'l boss's jints 

Grow stiff with work and age. 
There's many a man with musket pints 

His death and keeps his wage; 
But not this hoss with sorrel mane 

And coat, which every morn 
Comes limpin' up the scrubby lane 

And whinners for his corn. 



[102] 



NICODEMUS BOGGS 

NicoDEMUs BoGGs was named 

By scripture-loving aunts, 

Though never for that virtue famed 

Was Demus till by chance 

His mind was turned to churchly choice, 
And then one solemn night 
He heard an otherworldly voice 
Which put him in a fright 
Call 

" Nicodemus ! Nico-de-mus ! 

Nic-o-de-mus Boggs ! " 
Although there were some folks blasphemous 
Who said 'twas only frogs ; 
Be that however as it may, 
To Demus 'twas a sign ; 
So forthwith he began to pray 
And talk of things divine. 

Of course 'twas given him to know 

Without a studied mind; 

His tongue was loosened and the flow 

Of words left wit behind. 

Yet strange to say no church was moved 

His parish to become, 

Though Demus said it only proved 

The church was deaf and dumb. 

For certainly the call was plain. 

As often half-asleep 

[103] 



He heard the selfsame voice again 
In solemn tones and deep 
Urge 

" Nicodemus ! Nic-o-de-mus ! 

Nic-o-de-mus-s Bog-g-s ! " 
Although there were some folks blasphemous 
Who said 'twas only frogs. 

Be that as each opined, 'tis sure 

With Demus soon it turned 

To ague, and the only cure 

For flesh which froze or burned, 

The doctor ordered, was to drain 

The hollow in the rear 

Where Demus lived ; for while in vain 

He followed his career 

Of human welfare, there had lain 

The most neglected near. 

'Twas remedied and ne'er again 

Did Nicodemus hear 

The voice which had become so famous 

For back-door croaks and frogs 

Call 

" Nicodemus ! Nic-o-de-mus ! 

Nic-o-de-mus-s Bog-g-s ! " 



[104f] 



SACRED 



WHAT IS FAITH? 

Faith is no weakling, howsoe'er 
It needeth courage for its task, 
But strength whose confidence to dare 
Is that which humbles it to ask 
A higher help, a higher word 
To lift it, bid it trust and try. 
Assured its selfless prayer is heard, 
Its task beneath a Master's eye. 

Faith is the reasoning of heart 
Toward the Heart-of-hearts which beats 
In unison with every part 
Of all it quickens and completes ; 
And with a sense of love and plan 
Sees only good from truth and right. 
Wrong as the only ill which can 
Defeat design and quench the light. 

Faith is the fortifying gate 
Which walls us in, our terrors out. 
Through which we fare to conquer fate 
Or flee for refuge from our doubt; 
Faith blows the trumpet, mans the tower, 
Inspires hope, believes in Heaven 
And trusts the overruling Power 
To care for what its will hath given. 



[107] 



Faith is the burden-bearer's stay, 
The footsore pilgrim's trusty staff, 
The victor's martial panoply, 
The martyr's noblest epitaph. 
Faith is the vision's inner eye 
Whose pupil is the seeing soul, 
Its iris the reflected sky. 
Its long perspective Spirit's goal. 



[108] 



A FORGIVENESS 

A PILGRIM long devout arrived at last 
Before the Gate of Paradise, and cast 
His staff aside triumphantly to press 
Within the dreamed-of goal. But strange to 

say, 
It did not open to his eagerness 
As knocking he solicited the way. 

" Nay," said the Guardian Angel of the Gate, 

'' The proof of thy assurance I await. 

The sesame and heavenliest word 

That passes here! Three trials shalt thou 

have. 
And if thou hast not found it by the third 
No privilege to enter canst thou crave." 

So sure the Pilgrim was the truest right 
Must be the one of evangelic might 
He quickly answered " love ! " 

The Angel's wing 
Drooped o'er his countenance as he replied, 
" Nay, such a plea might any sinner bring 
Like any saint whose zeal is undenied. 

" Canst thou not to the name come closer yet 
Of Goodness' greatest key ? " 

The Pilgrim let 
His thoughts go outward in a second quest 

[109] 



And slowly made response, " Why, then, 'tis 

GRACE, 

The covenant and seal of all the rest, 
The chain whose lock is Love." 

The Angel's face 
Was still compassionate as he withheld 
The entrance, and his pity would have spelled 
The password in his eyes as he again 
Made answer, " Grace is truly all our hope 
In promise and fulfilment, but 'tis when 
We lay it to our hearts the Gate we ope 
And our admission most divinely plead; 
For none can think the word but feels its need 
And healing touch." 

The Pilgrim's brow grew sad. 
But as he pondered to his knees he fell 
And rose as oft before in wonder glad — 
" Forgiveness ! " 

The Angel answered, " Well ! " 
And stood aside to let him pass. 



[110] 



THE GOOD SAMARITAN 

The Good Samaritan was he 

Who had compassion not alone 

Humanely but divinely. We 

Must look beyond the Healer — see 

The Sympathizing Savior — be 

Forgiven, lifted up and shown 

The heart of Love and in our own 

Begin to feel the sympathy 

Which from His humanness had grown 

To deeds of such divinity. 

How little 'tis to minister 

To one poor soul unless we feel 

The touching brotherhood of care, 

The sense how easy 'tis to err, 

To fall, to need another's prayer, 

Another's help ! But when we kneel 

Our fellowfeeling must be real 

Enough that we can rise and share 

The burden of our own appeal 

And help our brother's cross to bear. 

He is the Good Samaritan 

Who loves enough to never wrong. 

To ever right a brother man — 

To bind his wounds and shape the plan 

Of life benignly so he can 

His neighbor also cheer along. 

[Ill] 



Blest be the mercifully strong! 
Blest be the human-hearted man 
Who never quenched a living song! 
For he is God's Samaritan. 



[112] 



SHEPHERD OF ISRAEL 

Shepherd of Israel, hear 
The calling of thy flock, 
And when we seek do thou be near 
To lead us to the Rock 
Where full and sheltered we 
At noonday may repose 
Or find at night security 
From all our lurking foes ! 

Help us to trust thy care 

Through green or barren ways 

And A^oice our doubts and fears in prayer. 

Our blessedness in praise ! 

If thorns beset our path. 

To feel Thou leadest us 

Is sweet assurance goodness hath 

A loving purpose thus. 

Guide us by living streams 

That rise in mountain height 

And up where wisdom's heavenly beams 

Our spirits bathe in light! 

Lead us to ranges high, 

To visions rich and broad. 

To pinnacles that touch the sky 

And help us know Thee, God ! 



[113] 



THE LADDER OF CLOUD 

There's a beautiful ladder of fine-spun cloud 
That stretches from earth to sky 
And up and down it the angels crowd 
With calling and soft reply : — 



Amrael 

Children of men, who only by sight 

Know that the stars exist, 

There was one that shone o'er the Avorld last 

night 
Through an aureole of mist. 



MiSHAEL 

They only saw it who had kept 
The vigil of the seers 
With inner sense; but ye who slept 
Knew not the sign of the years. 



Uriel 

The spirit of life became a star 

And we the herald-host; 

And we sang as the Wise Men gazed afar 

And the Shepherds Heavenmost; 

[114] 



Host 

Joy to the world! For lo, is born 
The Gift-Child! Echo on 
And on forever song of morn, 
Yet trembling into dawn! 



Refrain 

Joy to the pure in heart ! For thou 
Alone dost know the worth 
And meaning of the Gift, who bow 
Before the Virgin-birth. 



Chorus 

All hail Madonna's Gift 

That shall the earth to Heaven uplift ! 

All hail! Rejoice! 

What softening of angel-voice 
And light and listening sense 
Fell hush-like on the last " Rejoice, 
Madonna-reverence ! " 

The pearly wings the host enshroud. 

The voices fade away. 

And the beautiful ladder of fine-spun cloud 

Becomes the Gate of the Day. 

[115] 



THE RISEN CHRIST MEANS VICTORY 

Go forth and hail the Conqueror 
With flowers and sacred psalms ! 
The triumph we observe is more 
Than that of martial palms ; 
For lo ! there cometh from the tomb 
The Lord of life and life-to-be, 
Around whose feet the lilies bloom ; 
The risen Christ means victory. 

Go forth and on His living brow 

Entwine a laurel-wreath; 

For never was so great as now 

The glory of His death ! 

The Cross and Sepulchre had been 

The world's most damning tragedy 

But for the conquered curse of sin ; 

The risen Christ means victory. 

Go forth with precious ointment of 

Aff^ection to thy dead, 

With Easter's glad, believing love 

That He Who for us bled, 

Who slept and rose again, is strong 

To roll corruption's stone away. 

And loose the Resurrection Song ; 

The risen Christ means victory ! 



[116] 



THE EVERLASTING ARMS 

When to our life dark shadows come, 
Stern crosses, sacrificial cares 
And other fancied temporal harms. 
There is eternal refuge from 
Our terrifying doubts and fears 
Within the Everlasting Arms. 

When o'er our souls temptations sweep 
And goodness loses half its grace 
As sin pursues us with its charms. 
There is no refuge left to keep 
But the eternal hiding-place 
Within the Everlasting Arms. 

When through the valley dark and drear 

We walk or see another sink 

And death o'ercomes us with alarms. 

Be then, Eternal Refuge, near 

To hold us up upon the brink 

Within the Everlasting Arms ! 



[117] 



HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP 

The task is done, the sun is set, 

The evening shadows fall apace. 
The course is run, and tarries yet 

The glory only of the race; 
But ere the guerdon of the toil 

The fleeting soul shall rise to reap, 
God maketh it to rest awhile — 

He giveth his beloved sleep. 

What though the eyes are closed in death. 

The tired hands are folded now? 
Life shall arise, saith living faith. 

And ministry diviner grow. 
'Tis but the hush before the day : 

The Father bids his angels keep 
The treasure that we lay away — 

He giveth his beloved sleep. 

But not, oh not forever thus 

Doth death enshroud our silent ones — 
We know not what transfigures us, 

What miracle of quickening suns — 
But we await their healing wings. 

Their living flash, seraphic sweep, 
The glory of the King of Kings 

Who giveth his beloved sleep. 



[118] 



THE GLORY DWELLS 

Oh, the glory that we dream of 
Trembling over Bethlehem ! 
Magi following the beam of 
Starry prophecy to them! 
Shepherds startled by the gleam of 
Heavenly light and angel-hymn! 

Time hath made the vision holy, 
But I know that glory dwells 
Not in manger-village solely, 
Nor in dream that prophet tells, 
But wherever there's a lowly 
Child-heart, there the glory swells. 

Pride of earth and pomp of power 
Dazzle with their tinsel show ; 
But compared to goodness' dower 
They're as only glint to glow. 
Pride is merely for an hour, 
Goodness doth to glory grow. 



[119] 



THE LIGHT OF LIFE 

O Light of Life, shine thou 

Into my soul as doth the Sun of Day 

Into the world for seeing with mine eyes ! 

Reveal the good and evil — teach me how 

To stumble not but walk the Living Way 

That fills earth with the glory of the skies ! 

Let there be spirit-quickenings 

That thrill the being to responsiveness 

Lest vision be but human, uninspired! 

Ah, make it throb until from vision springs 

Anointed nature to in life express 

The Grace which makes the Heavenly desired! 



£120] 



DESIGN 

The universe of rolling spheres 
Is not for Deity's display 
But for a purpose which appears 
In its supernal harmony. 

Its mass that in momentum sweeps, 
Its energy of elements, 
The order which its system keeps 
Are aspects of omnipotence; 

And power working such design 
Is proof of Presence everywhere 
Intelligent, supreme, divine. 
Both in creatorship and care. 

For in His watchcare of the worlds 
He-Over-All doth manifest 
A greater power than that which whirls 
Them on their way at its behest, 

A greater purpose than to span 
The Heavens by His glory lit; 
For 'tis the more eternal plan 
Of making all creation fit 

For fellowship with Nature's God 
In higher terms of wisdom, truth 
And love by perfect will endowed. 
Whereof the worlds are but the proof. 
[121] 



Thou Supersoul, who Spirit art 
And rulest star-host, wave and wind, 
Teach us Thj majesty to heart 
And feel in music perfect Mind! 



[122] 



SONG 



GOLDEN HOPE 

There is nothing in the world so sweet 

As the hope which never, never dies, 
That sometime, somewhere we shall meet 

In gladder love beyond the skies — 

Oh, beyond the skies so golden, 

With the hope of Heaven olden ; 
For there's nothing in all the world so sweet 
As the olden, golden hope again to meet! 

There is nothing in all the world so fleet 

As the hope that ever, ever flies 
Swift onward, upward to the seat 

Of perfect love beyond the skies — 

Oh, beyond the skies so glowing, 

With the hope of Heaven growing ; 
For there's nothing in all the world so sweet 
As the glowing, growing hope again to meet! 

There is nothing in all the world so great 
As hope that bids us, helps us rise 

With more responsive hands and feet. 

With gladder tongues and clearer eyes — 
Oh, upon the skies so golden, 
With the hope of Heaven olden; 

For there's nothing in all the world so sweet 

As the olden, golden hope again to meet! 



[125] 



THE COMING CROWNING 

When the chariots of glory 

Come flashing from the east 

On the day of Advent-story, 

The crowning of the Christ; 

When the clouds are seraph-mounted 

And radiant of wing 

With angel-hosts uncounted, 

And the skies with rapture ring — 

My soul, wilt thou undaunted 

Meet the coming of the King? 

When earth the blessed vision 

With lifted eyes beholds 

And feels the swift transition 

Of glory that enfolds ; 

When from the skies descending 

The hosts of Heaven bring 

The Kingdom never-ending 

Of which all peoples sing — 

O Spirit, wilt thou blending 

Hail the coming of the King? 

When thrones are set for mercy 
And love to minister 
To the naked, sick and thirsty 
And all who faint or err ; 
When the Lord of glory reigneth 
And choired censers swing 

[126] 



With the praises God ordaineth 
As Heavens their banners fling — 
O Soul, a crown that gaineth, 
Crown and enthrone the King ! 



[127] 



THE LIVING CUP 

Gather all the beauty and the riches of the 
world, 
The flowers' blush and lover's flush, 

The hoards of gold and pearl; 
But you'll never have enough to sum 

The wealth and treasure up 
Like the blessing of the drinking from 
The living water's cup. 

Gather all the music and the fountain-springs 
of love. 
The heart's desire, censer's fire 

And starry host above; 
But you'll never have enough to sum 

The soul of gladness up 
Like the blessing of the drinking from 
The living water's cup. 

Gather all the glories and the triumphs of all 
time. 
Of temples' pride and kingdoms wide 

And grace and art sublime; 
But you'll never have enough to sum 

The joy of Heaven up 
Like the blessing of the drinking from 
The living water's cup. 



[128] 



THE SINGERS 

Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for 

forever, 
In ages gone by and the ages to come. 
But what of the voices whose noblest endeavor 
Must lift it as high as the height it is from? 
For the song must mount up on the wings of the 

Spirit 
And out of the heart that kindles with love 
Before all the world will listen to hear it, 
Before the world's sense it trembles above. 

Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for 

wherever 
There's beauty or sunshine, glory or joy; 
But what of the voices whose praises must 

gather 
The echoes that melt with the lips they employ ? 
For the notes must spring up from the souls they 

awaken 
And out of the hearts they kindle with love 
Before all the world by their sweetness is 

shaken. 
Before the world's life they triumph above. 

Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for as 

treasure 
Wherever are kingdoms, jewels or gold; 
But what of the voices whose heavenly measure 

[129] 



The wealth of the world's richest treasure must 

hold? 
For the song must be born from the world's 

greatest passion 
And out of a Heart that was kindled by love 
Before all the world its power can fashion 
To glory like that of the Master above. 



[130] 



THE CROWN OF THORNS 

CROWN of thorns upon the brow 
Of Him they nailed on Calvary, 
The serpent's coil and sting wert thou, 
The seal of sin and agony. 

Chorus 
For where the grief and thought of us 

The Savior's brow had borne. 
They 'put the mockery of the Cross, 

The crozcn of thorn, the crown of thorn. 

O crown of thorns, whose suffering 
The Savior for the world endured, 
'Twas thus He healed the serpent's sting. 
The evil mind of nature cured. 

Chorus 
For where the grief and thought of us 

The Savior s brow had borne. 
They put the sorrow of the Cross, 

The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn. 

O crown of thorns, whose wounds became 
Redeeming scars of victory. 
The glory where was once the shame — 
The diadem of Heaven be ! 



[131] 



Chorus 
For where the grief and thought of us 

The Savior's brow had borne, 
They put the triumph of the Cross, 

The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn. 



[132] 



SONG ALONG 

I SANG an old song as I worked one day — 
What cared I who smiled, 
What cared I who frowned? 
So long as my song made the task seem play, 
What cared I how many were pleasure-bound? 
I heeded them not unless they as well 
Were singing a song that work-glad fell. 
And then we together went singing along. 

I courted my love when dreamers were we — 
What cared I who laughed 
What cared I who sighed? 
So long as my love was the world to me. 
What cared I for others the whole world wide? 
I heeded them not unless they as well 
Were dreaming upon the same love's spell. 
And then we together went dreaming along. 

So I worked with a love-song for my cheer — 
What cared I who hated 
Both labor and joy? 
So long as my loved ones to me were dear, 
What cared I how others made loving alloy? 
I heeded them not unless they as well 
Were part of the song which cherubs swell. 
And then we together went singing along. 



[133] 



ECCE HOMO! 

Upon the Cross I see Him nailed, 

The man of Nazareth; 
His brow is pierced, His visage paled 

With sufferings of death. 
Around Him gather those who hate 

And those who love Him most 
To watch His sin-appointed fate 

With grief or ruthless boast ; 
And as His pleading face I scan 
All history cries — " Behold the Man ! " 

His wounded hands and feet I see. 

The fountain from His side ; 
O Calvary, O Calvary, 

Behold the Crucified! 
Yet not the cruel thorns are worst 

Nor blood of anguish spilt. 
But that the sinless One is curst 

For all the race's guilt; 
And as His pleading face I scan 
All history cries — " Behold the Man ! " 

Yet as I on His visage marred 
With guilt and sorrow gaze 

It changes from the beauty scarred 
To time's most wondrous face. 

A glory as of Heaven breaks 
Upon the crown of thorn 

[134] 



And every tortured feature takes 

A love by passion born ; 
For as His pleading face I scan 
All history cries — " Behold the Man ! " 



[135] 



THE LOVE THAT WASHED HIS FEET 

She came as at supper the Lord reclined, 

She came with purpose sweet; 

Not of the host's or servant's kind 

Withheld from Him at meat; 

For she came to wash His feet. 

She watered them with tears of grief, 

She wiped them with her hair. 

She kissed them till she found relief 

And words of pardon there 

As she knelt to wash His feet. 

She loved the most because she knew 

Forgiveness so great; 

She loved, and nothing else could do 

To prove her love complete 

But to wash her Savior's feet. 

No goodly laver did she own, 

No costly perfume bring; 

But hers was the truest service shown 

Whose faith the world will sing 

As the love which washed His feet. 

O sinner, the Savior's present still 

Beside Compasdon's seat 

To pardon whosoever will 

The woman's trust repeat 

And kiss the Savior's feet! 

Let contrite tears be mercy's plea 

[136] 



And love its passion press 
Upon the feet of ministry 
That came to save and bless 
The hands which clasp His feet ! 



[137] 



MISCELLANEOUS 



THE SHUT AND OPEN HAND 

THE FIST 

I SHUT my eyes and opened them. 
And while they were shut I saw 
All the dread things that happen to men 
In the name of cause and law. 

I saw the tortured toil and travail 
As the cost of bread and birth; 
I saw the skein of fate unravel 
Around the helpless earth; 

A million who had nobly striven 
Go down to grim defeat, 
A million who their heart-blood given 
Spurned from proud Honor's seat; 

Hope mocked and dear ideals shattered. 
Truth crushed and crucified. 
The fruits of love and labor scattered 
And Greed o'er Goodness ride; 

Curse like a ghoul despair and sorrow 
Leave at the race's door, 
Pledging to-morrow and to-morrow 
Cursing the world still more. 

And as men were broken and stricken 
I saw the darkness loom 

[141] 



To a frown of Hate and slowly thicken 
To a spectral shape of Doom. 

Shadows, thunders, griefs and grossness 
Gathered in a blacker mass, 
Life's calamities and crosses 
Wrapped the midnight of all space 

Into — God ! What awful likeness 
Of a giant arm and wrist 
Bulking blacker still to smite us 
As a clenched terrific fist ! 



THE OPEN HAND 

I shut my eyes and opened them. 
And when they were open I saw 
All the glad things that happen to men 
By a more benignant law. 

I saw the smiling heaven bending 
Above the fruitful land. 
The beauty and the bounty blending. 
The kiss of sea on strand ; 

The love in labor and the guerdon 
Of home and wrought ideal, 
The benison behind the burden. 
The worth which works the weal; 

[142] 



The glory of the sacrificial, 
The sanctity and song 
Of Nature's benedictive missal 
O'er suffering and wrong. 

I saw the good and grace of seasons 
Aglow with golden yield, 
And giving trust a thousand reasons 
In flowerfest and field ; 

Until a misty plexus trembled 
In midair and anon 
A presence as of Love resembled 
Diaphanous at dawn, 

With morning vestments all a-shimmer. 
Yet from whose potent charm 
Of godlike gloriole and glimmer 
There stretched a Titan arm. 

Earth and sky seemed coalescing 
By filmy fingers spanned 
And became as if in blessing 
A mighty, open hand. 



[143] 



THE MAN-BIRD 

The man-bird harnessed on his wings, 
Empowered the impatient heart 
And mounted into space as springs 
Some captive eagle when released 
From durance ; but though human art 
Might imitate, its genius ceased 
Too short to force one secret of 
The wild, fierce mastery of flight 
In spiral sweeps away, above 
The dizziest pinnacle of sight. 

INIan could but follow as he dared 

With plane and engine, chance and nerve, 

Yet like a Jove who boldly fared 

Across the firmament supreme; 

O'er vortexes with plunge and swerve. 

O'er air-abysses where the scream 

Of harpies echoed mocking forth 

On ears too tense — yet ever on 

O'er blinding South and blasting North, 

Triumphant up or headlong down ! 

Ten thousand feet on high, ye gods, 

Man tries conclusions for your realm 

And gambles life at daring odds 

To ride above the storm-strewn fleece; 

A modern Jason at the helm 

By siren lured like him of Greece 

[.144] 



To desperate hazard; yet to fail 
One pulse-beat for a thrilling glance — 
Ah, well the boldest might turn pale 
And choose 'twixt glory and mischance ! 

A moment poised the avian, 
Then earthward swooped as never Jove 
Rode down the vault of superman. 
Wind-surges roared and clouds fled by, 
Death raced beside and demons strove 
To wrench one slender part or ply; 
But flawless-sinewed, man and steed 
Came flashing, wheeling down and down 
With thrice a Roman courser's speed 
To earth and conqueror's renown. 



[145] 



THE PHANTOM CAVALRY 

What knows the world of battles? History 

writes 
The deeds of men with blood and triumph hails 
As trophy of their valor, armament 
Or better fortune, thinking he who fights 
With surer odds or tactics seldom fails 
In the last holocaust of war's event. 

Impassioned eyes see not the shadow-shapes 
That hover on the flank of charging hosts, 
Ready to launch themselves as chance array; 
Not one of all the mustered lines escapes 
When mockery's phantom centauri the boasts 
Of martial pride downtrample and dismay. 

Ah, Waterloo! where scarred battalions strove 
And overwhelmed each other, blood-imbrued. 
Hurling their troops with savage impotence — 
The conquering cavalry which o'er thee drove 
Was not the one the Corsican reviewed. 
Nor yet the Iron Duke with grimmer sense. 

Ah, Gettysburg! whose murderous brigades 

Met in the shambles of a horror-hell 

Or rushed like demons in the jaws of death — 

Thy most resistless riders were the shades 

Of other erstwhile terribles who fell 

Drawing the sword from its envenomed sheath. 

[146] 



In vain each other's throats the blue and grey 

Sprang at like wolves of Winter mad for flesh, 

And yet unsated till the kill-lust leaped 

In exultation's shout of victory! 

Not all thy columns veteran or fresh 

Could save the field by grisly corpses heaped 

Against the spectral squadron which outrode 
Both Fighting Phil and Morgan's Men alike, 
As on the Battle's flank it weirdly hung 
Or where the Dragon's Teeth of Hate were 

sowed 
Sprang up as Headless Horsemen armed to 

strike 
And crumple back the charge by fury flung. 

They loomed like apparitions, terror-bom, 
Yet ghastly real and dreadly sinister. 
Abreast of every vanguard and redoubt ; 
O'er trench and belching gun they swept in 

scorn 
Or carried panic to the broken rear 
Till all was carnage, cowardice and rout. 

Invincible formations, onsets' surge 
Of vengeance' boldest fiends, manoeuvres dire 
With compassing destruction — all before 
The grewsome legionaries' mounted charge 
Were swept like chaffs by maelstrom wind and 

fire 
And rose again in prowess nevermore. 
[147] 



But on the ghost-troop galloped as of old 
In every bloody battle, never dead 
And never yet defeated ; phantoms still 
That gallop, gallop o'er the mortal mould 
Of every tragic battlefield once red 
With madmen's life-blood at their country's 
will! 



[148] 



THOU CALLEST ME BROTHER 

Thou callest me thy human brother; well, 

Am I less flesh and spirit than thyself 

Or less entitled so to humbly dwell 

In honest peace and plenty that to delve 

Is equally as noble as to draw 

From the rich depths digged up ? Or is the law 

Of brotherhood pretense? — Our separate lots 

But differ as our make, not as our meed. 

Do brothers share according to their thoughts 

Or in the rough according to their need? 

If thou dost think thee finer in the end 

Than him thou flatterest, thou art no friend. 

Thou callest me thy brother and dost praise 
My struggle to get even, holding fast 
Thyself the odds of vantage, so the race 
Is to the swift and strong — and he is last 
Whose toiling body forged the chariot-wheel 
That rolls thee on to fortune. It were base 
To make the difference one of feast and fast, 
Of full and empty measure of our weal; 
For I am he who's spent — the spender thou ; 
Yet thou dost call me brother! Heaven, how? 



[149] 



THE SINGING DEATH 

Men whisper low of spectres, calibans 
And curses almost devilish with doom, 
Mysterious fiends like hellhounds, werwolves, 

ghouls 
And other nameless shapes as jinns and janns 
That spring from demon-haunts and skulk or 

loom 
To terror-stricken fancy of weak souls. 

But none have named the scourge of Singing 

Death, 
The dread reality which out of hell 
Comes forth as often as the blood-lust burns ; 
Foulness and fury volcanize its breath 
As, ravening for flesh insatiate, fell 
It swoops, devours and bloodier returns. 

An army gathers flushed with high resolve 
And there is martial music and display 
Of glory ominous with human fate; 
For ere the dial shall again revolve 
The Singing Death exultantly will prey 
Upon the host till horror outdoes hate. 

A floating citadel superbly steers 

Her ocean-course with victory-flags unfurled. 

Alike to sea and foe invincible; 

Yet somewhere from the blue as she careers 

[150] 



The Singing Death by Titan forces hurled 
Will scream above her decks with damning 
knell. 

Hark ! Hear you it like vomit from the throat 

Of Hades hurtling through the sulphurous air, 

With cross between the moan of Manes' wraith, 

The torture of Inferno and the note 

Of vulture-torn Prometheus' despair? 

Ah! 'Tis the cannon missile's Singing Death! 

It plays no diapason as the roar 
It leaves behind where thunders loud intone, 
Nor as the mighty swell of organ-reeds ; 
But all the stops of battle rising o'er, 
It shrieks its way to finish with the groan 
Of mortal agony where valor bleeds. 

It sings not as a master for applause, 
With perfect-voiced-and-chested range of gift 
Till song becomes the triumph of all time; 
But, rather, 'tis a dirge which discord flaws 
With time's infernal arts lest God uplift 
The world by love to Peace's choir sublime. 



[151] 



THE OLD MOON IN THE ARMS OF 

THE NEW 

The young moon rises low 
Just where the passing earth 
Has stood aside to help it grow, 
Once it has come to birth. 

Yet on the old moon's back 
The image of the new 
Reflected is with lustre-lack 
From earth it kindled to. 

In gleaming arms of youth 
The sire is embraced ; 
The silver edge of ancient truth 
In younger truth is traced. 

The clasp of morning love 
Embosoms that of eve ; 
And memory's in the crescent of 
Old age's child-reprieve. 

A sickly sickle frames 

The lusty one that reaps ; 

So power, pleasure, fortune, fame's 

Pale as the keener sweeps. 

Our latest wish infolds 

The hope that's almost spent, 

[152] 



And every rim of promise holds 
The past to future bent. 

But not so feebly say 

Youth hastens on the heels 

Of age, but that 'tis nature's way 

Our myriad orb reveals. 



£153] 



LIBRARY OF CONGRg 




